A beautiful face
by Snurtz
Summary: Okay, this story is completely set apart from my other ones. Mark meets a girl in a way that's not exactly... romantic... ch.2 is up!
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Obviously, I do not own the characters in this story. It's a FANFICTION!

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I was loading my camera onto my bike when it happened.

_Crash!_ My camera went flying. My glasses went flying. _I _even went flying. I swore and ran after my glasses, just barely making them out on the sidewalk.

"I am so sorry!" she cried, picking up my camera and handing it to me. "I'm so very sorry!"

I put my glasses on and took my camera from her. I took one look at it and blanched. My beautiful camera was completely busted. I stared at it in utter shock. It was broken. I'd had it for five years, and now she'd broken it.

"My… my camera," I whispered, stroking it gently.

"I'm really sorry!" she said again, sounding close to tears now. I looked up to her, ready to make a very un-Mark-like remark, but my throat stopped before I could say anything.

She was beautiful. She had shoulder-length, curly brown hair and beautiful dark brown eyes. She was light-skinned, but not as light as me. A light dusting of freckles covered her nose, and she had full, naturally red lips. She wasn't really thin, but she wasn't not thin either. I'd never seen such a beautiful woman in my entire life.

"It's okay," I finally said, despite what I really thought. I tried to think of something else to say, but no words came.

"Are you sure?" she said. "I'll pay to get it fixed. Or I'll buy you a new one, or something—"

"No," I interrupted, mentally kicking myself over and over again. "It's only a… only a…" I trailed off and looked down at my camera, tracing the rim of the lens with my index finger. I felt a strange empty feeling inside and wondered if it was possible to be in love with an inanimate object.

"No, it obviously means a lot to you. Please, let me do something to ease my guilt," she pleaded, putting her hands together. I stared at her beautiful face. She was obviously very flustered, and now her bottom lip was starting to quiver.

_Why are women so emotional?_ I asked myself, not sure what to do. She was looking at me expectantly with those beautiful eyes, which at the moment were brimming with tears. I didn't want her to cry.

"I think I can fix it," I lied, pretending to study it for ways to start its repair. "Don't worry ab—"

"Oh, I'm so relieved!" she said, pulling me into a hug. An invisible spatula jutted into me a flipped my stomach over, squashing it down onto an invisible griddle. Suddenly I couldn't breathe, and it wasn't because she was squeezing the life out of me. She pulled back and looked me in the eye before I shifted my gaze away.

"Are you sure?" she asked, still sounding a little worried.

"Well, I think so," I said tentatively, starting to stroke my poor camera again.

_What are you saying, Mark?_ I thought. _She busted it! It's gone!_

Something in my face must have betrayed my words. She put her hands on her hips and leaned her weight onto her right foot, raising an eyebrow.

"You're lying, aren't you?" she said.

I looked up, surprised. "Well—no! I mean… I can—well…" I stammered, caught off guard by her ability to see right through me.

"I'm in a hurry now," she said, pulling her big blue purse over her left shoulder. "Obviously, or I wouldn't have plowed right into you." She opened her purse and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. "I'm going to give you my number. Call me tomorrow and we can't meet for lunch. Bring your camera; we'll take it to a shop." She scribbled down some letters and numbers and held the paper out for me to take. I reached out for it, but she pulled it away.

"Wait—what's your name?" she asked, holding the paper up like a cigarette.

I blinked. "Mark," I replied, my voice cracking. "I'm Mark."

She handed me the paper. "Well, my name's on this," she said. She put her hand on my shoulder, and my stomach did a back flip. Then she started to run, leaving me staring after her.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Mark!" she called over her shoulder, narrowly missing running into another person. I waved goodbye, stupidly shaking my now-broken camera in the air. I pocketed the paper without looking at it and hooked my camera to my bike, feeling strangely light-headed.

On the bike ride back to the loft, my mind was filled to the brim with questions and strange thoughts. She was so energetic, so intriguing. I couldn't drive the image of her out of my head the whole way home, which made my navigation skills slightly less effective. I almost pulled in front of a speeding cab twice, both times getting honked at and startling me out of my dreamy state.

"Hey, Mark, back so soon?" said Roger as I walked in the door. He was sitting on the table, his guitar in one hand and a pen in the other. I put my bike down in the corner and removed my camera from its place, cradling it in my arms like a baby.

"Ooh," he said, seeing my destroyed camera. "How'd that happen?"

"Someone ran into me," I said simply, placing it gently on the counter and staring at it sadly for a moment.

"Sorry, man," Roger said sympathetically. "That sucks."

"Yeah," I said absentmindedly, heading for my room. "Yeah, it does."

"Don't dwell on it too much, Mark," he warned as I disappeared into my bedroom. I shut the door without a word and leaned up against it, looking up to the ceiling and sighing. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the paper she had given me. Her name and phone number were written neatly on it.

"Sarah," I read aloud, picturing her beautiful face. I pocketed the paper again and slid down to the floor, closing my eyes. "See you tomorrow, Sarah."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: uh...der. Do I really have to put this before EACH chapter? I don't think so.  
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**Thanks to the people who reviewed. You make me feel loved. And GlindaAndBogForever, you made a good point and I decided to slightly incorporate it into my story. You might be amused to know that Sarah kind of looks and acts like me, except she has light skin and freckles. I don't. Anways... read on. Oh, and I promise everyone that this will stay lighthearted, even if there are little sad parts. Kind of like a romantic comedy, right?**

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I woke up the next morning to the telephone ringing.

"SPEAK," said the answering machine in my and Roger's voices. I smiled. I'd always thought that was hilarious.

"Hey, it's Collins. Wake up and throw down the keys," said a familiar voice through the answering machine. I stayed in bed, waiting for Roger to throw them down. When I didn't hear any footsteps, I sighed and grabbed my glasses off the wooden box that served as my nightstand and stumbled out of bed. I walked out to the main room and pulled the keys off their hook by the door. I sleepily wandered over to the window, yawning as I stepped outside.

"It's about time!" shouted Collins from down below. "I almost called again!"

"Shut up," I shouted back, tossing him the keys. He laughed at me and I headed back inside. A few moments later, I heard him thundering up the stairs. I turned on the coffee pot and pulled out a mug from the cabinet. Just then, Collins slid open the door and shouted, "Good morning, Boho boys!" I heard a thump behind me and whirled around. Roger was sitting on the floor, looking tired and very bewildered. Collins doubled over, cracking up. I smiled and went over to help him up.

"Roger, Collins is here," I said, giving him a pat on the back as he rubbed his eyes.

"I noticed," he retorted. He looked behind him at the couch. "I must've fallen asleep out here again. Will you shut up, Collins?"

Collins attempted to compose himself, but he was doing a bad job at it. I chuckled and Roger pushed me grumpily.

"What's up, Collins?" I said, heading back over to the coffee pot. "Why the early house call?"

"Early, man?" said Collins, wiping the tears out of his eyes. "It's almost noon!"

"Noon?" I cried, looking at the wall clock. I read 5:33. Then I remembered that it was broken and ran over to Collins, grabbing his wrist and checking his watch. It read 11:55. "No, no, no!" I said, nervously running my fingers through my hair.

"What's the big problem, Mark?" asked Collins, helping himself to a cup of coffee.

"I'm supposed to be going to lunch with someone today," I moaned. "I was supposed to call her this—"

"Whoa, hold up a minute," said Roger, putting up a hand. "Did you just say 'her'? When did this happen?"

"Last night," I said, running to my room to get the paper she had given me.

"Where did you meet this woman?" asked Collins, making himself at home on the couch.

"No, it's not like that," I explained. "She broke my camera. She said she'd pay to get it fixed."

"She broke your camera?" said Collins. "How'd she do that?"

"She ran into me. Now let me call her," I said impatiently, dialing her number.

"What's her name?" Roger asked, ignoring my irritated remark.

"Sarah," I said. The phone rang. And rang. I almost started to panic when a female voice said, "Hello?"

"Sarah?" I said, relieved.

"No, this is Michelle," replied the woman. "But I can get her for you. Hold on."

"Thank you so much," I said. Collins and Roger were snickering. "Stop it," I snapped at them, putting my hand over the receiver. They just laughed harder. I rolled my eyes and sighed.

"Hello?" came a voice on the phone.

The sound of Sarah's voice almost made me drop the phone, which only encouraged Collins and Roger to mimic me. I tried to ignore them and said, "Hi, Sarah. It's Mark."

"Mark?"

"From last night? You broke my camera." Smooth, Mark.

"Oh, yeah! I'm really sorry about that, I really am!"

"Are we meeting for lunch, then?" Very nice. Collins and Roger looked like they were going to explode.

"Yeah… where do you want to go?"

I hadn't expected a choice. I tried to think of a nice place, but I couldn't think of any.

"Life Café?" I started kicking myself mentally again.

"Sure. 12:30?"

"Okay." I swallowed. I would only have about fifteen minutes to get ready.

"Don't forget your camera!" she said cheerily. _Click._

I blinked. "Uh… bye," I said to the dead phone. _Click._

The second I hung up, Collins and Roger started laughing like maniacs.

"Smooth with the ladies, ain't he, Roger?" said Collins, shaping his hand into an imaginary phone. "Uhh, it's Mark. You broke my camera," he said into it.

"Shut up," I mumbled. I could feel my face heating up. Roger snickered and got up for a cup of coffee. Collins leaned back and studied me as a spaced out, then looked at his watch.

"When are you meeting her?" he asked.

"12:30," I replied, looking up at the broken clock.

"Well, you'd better get going," he said.

I smacked my hand against my forehead. "Oh, I've got to shower and everything!" I exclaimed, speaking to no one in particular. I ran into the bathroom, ignoring the laughter of Roger and Collins.

At 12:30 sharp, I was at the Life Café, camera in hand and as nervous as humanly possible.

_It's just lunch, Mark,_ I told myself over and over again. _This is _not_ a date._

"Just you today?" came the voice of the waiter behind me. I turned around to find him staring at me with his arms crossed.

"No, I'm meeting someone," I said haughtily. "And I _can_ pay for it."  
He gave me a look at walked away to help other customers. I turned back to the window, feeling hopeless. I was always a basket case around attractive women.

_Just like Maureen_, I thought. I smiled, remembering the day Maureen and I had met. I had been holding auditions for my latest movie, and she had hopped right onto the stage and given it her all. Very impressed, I took her on right away, not only because I thought she was a good actress, but also because I was quite taken with her the moment our eyes met.

Then, after we had dated for over a year, she dumped me for another woman. I frowned at the memory.

A horrible thought came into my mind. _What if Sarah's a lesbian, too?_ I shook my head. Couldn't be. Then I considered it. She acted a lot like Maureen. She was as klutzy as Maureen. She even _looked_ a little like Maureen. I felt the heat rush up to my face as I realized how much of a possibility it was.

"You look like you need some water," said a cheerful female voice behind me. I whirled around, startled.

"S-Sarah!" I exclaimed, surprised. How had I not seen her go by the window? I felt my face get even hotter. I was surely as red as her skirt was now.

"Yes, that's my name,' she said with a laugh. "Seriously. You're pretty red, Mark."

I never knew it was possible to be so embarrassed. I stammered for what seemed like an eternity before she interrupted me.

"Why don't we just find a seat?" she said. She put her arm around my shoulder and led me to a table, completely unaware of the fact that my head had suddenly become as light as air. I sat down and watched her take a seat, tripping over the table leg on the way over. She caught herself and laughed, almost falling into her chair.

"Sorry, I'm such a klutz, as I'm sure you've noticed," she said.

"Oh, no! I mean… well, you are… I mean…"

"Did you bring the camera?" she said, as if she had suddenly remembered the reason we were there. I nodded and pulled it out of my bag, setting it one the table. I focused my attention on the camera to avoid her eyes. When she looked into my eyes, I felt as if she could see right through me. No one could ever do that to me before.

"Well, let's eat, then we'll go to this nifty shop just a few blocks down, okay?" she said. Just then, the waiter appeared.

"Ah, Mark Cohen," he said, pulling out his pad of paper and a pen. "Resident filmmaker and instigator of loud parties where everyone stands on the tables. You haven't been here for a while, Mark!"

"I've been busy," I mumbled as Sarah stared at me in disbelief.

"Mark _Cohen_?" she said. "Didn't you work for Buzzline a while back?"

I looked up in surprise. "How did you know about that?" I asked.

"I think I need to properly introduce myself, Mark Cohen!" she said, stretching out her hand. "Sarah Darling, pleased to meet you!"

My jaw dropped. "Sarah _Darling_? As in—"

"Sister of Alexi Darling. She couldn't stop talking about you for weeks! And I broke _your_ camera! I'm even more sorry now than I was before!"

The waiter cleared his throat, and we both turned to look at him.

"I'm glad that I've helped you two get to know each other, but are you going to order? I have other tables to get to."

"Oh, sorry!" Sarah said. "How about a… seaweed salad?"

"I'll just have a tea," I said. It was the only thing I could afford.

"Oh, come on, you're so skinny!" Sarah protested. "Get something to eat."

"No, I'm fine," I assured her. She gave me a skeptical look. "I'm fine," I said again. She nodded slowly, staring at me. I tried not to meet her eyes, but I couldn't help it. Our eyes locked, and I felt as if I was being opened up and studied. I quickly looked away, feeling really funny inside. Our waiter walked away, and she rested her chin on her hands, studying me.

"So, what's this loud party where everyone stands on the tables that he was talking about?" she asked with an amused smile.

"It was after Maureen's protest on Christmas Eve a couple of years ago," I said, grinning at the memory.

"The cow one that was on the news, that turned into a riot?"

"Yeah, that one."

"That was amazing. You got really good footage of that."

I blushed. "Thanks."

"So, what's this about standing on tables?"

"Well, we were all on the table by the end of it."

"End of what?"

"Our… eulogy. We were making fun of an old friend who said Bohemia was dead. I decided to remind him what it was all about."

"_You_ did? Does that mean you started the standing on the tables?"

"Well, yes."

She laughed. "I didn't take you for that kind of guy!" she said.

I was feeling a little less nervous. She was really easy to talk to. I shrugged, actually letting loose something of a laugh.

We had a good time together at the café, talking and laughing. I was amazing myself. I had never laughed so easily with anyone before.

Eventually, it was time to leave and go to the shop. I had almost forgotten about it by then; I was having such a good time. I had managed to spare myself the indignity of not being able to pay by not ordering any food, but I felt like I should have paid for Sarah's, too.

_I will next time_, I told myself. Then I came to the horrible realization that there might not _be_ a next time. I dismissed that thought. _Of course there will be a next time! Look how well you two get along!_

We walked into the shop, and I handed my camera to Sarah. She brought it to the front desk and set it on the counter.

"Excuse me, can you fix this?" she said, gesturing to the camera.

The man behind the counter picked it up and studied it. He looked back to Sarah with an almost sad look. My stomach did a twist.

"How old is this?" he asked.

"Um…" Sarah looked to me for help.

"Ten, twenty years, I think," I said quietly.

The man frowned. "Well, this camera's gonna need some parts replaced, and the parts for this particular model are discontinued."

My heart fell. Sarah turned to look at me, sorrow radiating from her expression. I slowly walked forward and took the camera from the man's hands, stroking it lovingly. I felt a lump in my throat and hated myself for feeling so horrible over a little machine.

"Mark, I'm so sorry," Sarah said, putting a hand on my shoulder. I pulled away and faced away from her so she wouldn't see the tears forming in my eyes. I hated myself even more now.

"Mark?" Sarah said again, her voice gentle and almost childlike.

Without a word, I ran out of the shop and down the street, heading for the loft. I didn't care if Sarah followed me or not, as long as she didn't see me cry over a stupid junk camera. I ran straight through a group of tourists, right through traffic. I just wanted to get home. I wasn't watching where I was going, and I bumped into someone.

"Sorry, I mumbled, pausing to pull my bag back over my shoulder."

"That's okay, honey," the person said. I looked up to see a drag queen before me, and I almost dropped my bag again in shock. The drag queen smiled at me, and I turned back around and ran even faster than before, the tears threatening to spill over

I made it to the loft in record time and flew up the stairs. I threw the door open and dashed into my room, leaving Roger paused mid-sentence and Collins in mid-sip of his coffee. I slammed the door shut and stood in the middle of the room, panting.

I finally let the tears run down my face, and I hated myself. I hated myself for abandoning Sarah like that. I hated myself for being so attached to a camera. But most of all, I hated myself for crying over it when I hadn't even cried at my own friend's funeral.

I could barely even remember how to cry. I hadn't since I was old enough to control it. I gasped for air and sniffed, disgusted with my own behavior.

I heard a knock on my door. I chose to ignore it.

"Hey, it's Collins. What happened, Mark?"

I ignored him again and sat down on my bed, holding my dead camera tight. He knocked again, louder this time.

"Come on, Mark, what's up?"

I didn't reply. I listened to his footsteps get farther away and wiped the tears off my chin and cheeks. I sat in silence for a minute, and then another knock came.

"Mark? It's Roger this time. Will you open the door?"

"No," I finally said, hating how my voice sounded.

"C'mon, Mark, open up."

"I don't think so."

"Well, fine, your loss, Mark. But there's someone here to see you… the girl you were talking about earlier. Sarah?"


End file.
